How it Should Have Been
by JDLPOtter
Summary: when headmaster Harry Potter hears a prophecy during an interview, he sets out to forge a new version of events eerily similar to his own child hood, but can he really do any better than Dumbledore? (Albus/OC Ron/Hermione and Harry/Multiple, but one at a time)


**How I Should Have Been**

 _My first fanfic, thanks to my amazing beta for helping me out, the story is canon as far as the end of the 7th book, or as close to canon I can get it, and as I'm sure you are aware, i do not own harry potter or any related merchandise, as that honour goes to J.K Rowling, however some of the characters mentioned will be OC._

Harry Potter had always been wary of divination, but he had more reason to be than most. His private room in the Leaky Cauldron was filled with silent tension. As he awaited the arrival of his interviewee, Harry's chest twinged with pain. He stretched one hand towards the cane which rested atop the table, a stark reminder of the attack which had taken Ginny away from him.

Despite his grief after Ginny's death, Harry had not been left entirely bereft. Wizards lived a lot longer than muggles, and even at fifty-four years old, Harry still had most of his friends, no matter their respective generations. Hermione and Ron were always there for him, Arthur and Molly were still going strong at the burrow, Kingsley was still forging a brave new wizarding world, and McGonagall, whilst retired, was still scowling away every time he visited. Best of all, Harry's children were all safe and well.

Seven years ago, after an assassination attempt during the Quidditch World Cup Final had claimed the life of his beloved wife, Harry had stepped down from his job as director of Magical Law Enforcement. Promoted due to his illustrious career as an auror, he'd held the post for three short years before tragedy struck and he decided to take up a quieter role as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts. When Pomona Sprout retired as Hogwarts headmistress, however, she chose Harry to take up the mantle. Harry had pleaded repeatedly for her to leave the job to Neville, a far more experienced teacher, but she was unshakeable; Harry became the youngest headmaster in the history of the school, an honour he begrudgingly accepted.

When Professor Trelawney had announced last September that she foresaw the welcoming feast to be her last, Harry merely partook of the mandatory post-prediction eye roll before concluding that this was her way of handing in her notice. She had duly packed up her belongings at the end of the school year and disappeared off to...Well, it wasn't as if anyone either knew or cared where. Initially, Harry had been delighted - he could finally get rid of his most-hated subject! After a discussion with past headmasters, however, he found that a 1378 ruling by the International Confederation of Wizards compelled schools to offer divination lessons in order to nurture those with the sight. Why they couldn't just offer specialised lessons to those who displayed the gift was beyond him, but rules were rules. Here he was, the day before his fifty-fifth birthday, waiting to hear the predictions of some strange crackpot. Harry had no idea how in the name of Merlin's beard he was meant to consider her without knowing if her predictions were true, but it still had to be done. She was his thirteenth candidate of the day, and he wanted to get home before it got too late.

Harry would've preferred to hold the interviews in his office at Hogwarts, but even on that he had been thwarted. A seer had to spend at least a month in the castle before the wards surrounding the school stopped affecting their sight. He really had to get the interviews finished today, or he'd be spending his birthday attempting to find someone who, unlike his previous interviewees, at least knew the OWL syllabus...Suddenly, the sound of a knock reverberated through the door, rousing Harry from his thoughts.

"Enter," he called, reaching for his butterbeer.

The door opened to reveal - well, not the kind of person he'd been expecting at all. In the doorway stood a rather professional-looking woman; she was wearing semi-formal robes, the wizarding equivalent of workwear. The only clue to her practice was a strange yet familiar necklace which Harry understood was used by seers to focus the inner eye.

"Hello, Headmaster Potter," she murmured, closing the door softly behind her.

Her high-heeled shoes clacked on the wooden floorboards as she marched over to him. Harry summoned a weak smile in return and stretched out his right hand. She swept her blonde fringe to the side with one hand before shaking his hand firmly with the other. Following Harry's polite motioning, she sat in the opposite chair and met his gaze. Her face was kind, but it carried the suggestion of underlying steeliness. Unusual even for a witch, her violet eyes shone with anticipation and wit. Embarrassed at his own forgetfulness, Harry glanced down at his folder to check her name and quickly realised he'd met her before. He'd never spoken to her, though; he was sure he would have remembered those eyes! The rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin really had reigned supreme during their schooldays, keeping the inhabitants of Harry and Daphne's respective houses almost entirely separate.

"Miss Greengrass," Harry began, "It has certainly been a while."

For a second, she looked shocked that he had remembered her at all, but her expression was quickly covered with a faint smile.

"Indeed it has," she replied, "But we never got to know each other at school, and then afterwards you were too busy gallivanting around, saving the wizarding world twice a week. And of course there was that terrible business with your wife, wasn't there? I'm so sorry for your loss -" Daphne cut herself off and glanced down at her (frankly magnificent) shoes. Harry winced as a familiar pang of grief shot through him, then shook himself and began the interview.

"Well, um, thank you," he recovered himself. "Your OWL and NEWT results were very impressive, Daphne. Especially Divination - I believe you got the highest mark in our year at NEWT level."

"Well, Granger didn't take divination, so someone had to," Daphne laughed. It was true - Hermione's nine Outstanding exam results were the best Hogwarts had seen in decades, alongside Harry's high Outstanding in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Of course," Harry agreed, "Now, could you discuss how you would incorporate recent developments in the field of Divination into the curriculum?"

The remainder of the interview continued in the regular fashion, and Harry was extremely impressed. Daphne seemed like the one seer he'd ever met who actually knew how to teach properly and had an excellent grasp of her own sight and its power.

"So, we'll be in contact with you in the next few days to discuss the result of your interview," said Harry, "But between you and me, I don't think you have anything to worry about. I've just got to check things over with Neville and the governors."

Before Harry could shake the hand Daphne offered, her arms fell limply to her sides, her head snapped back, and her eyes began to exude a mysterious light before rolling back into her head.

Daphne's voice took on a raspy undertone as she screeched, " _The magical heir of the Dark Lord arises. Born on the day of love, she shall be their equal. Born to the son of the Chosen One, her magic shall overcome all. Born on the day of love," as Harry heard a familiar crack outside the door,_ she gasped for air and continued, her voice rising in pitch and volume, " _She will become the greatest of them all, with tutelage from past victors four. The scion of Godric and Rowena Ravenclaw -"_ Daphne's prediction was cut off, as she collapsed to the floor, choking on the words in her throat.

"Fuck," Harry swore, kneeling down next to Daphne. As tried to shake her awake, he couldn't help but feel a horrifying sense of déjà vu. He thought, in the back of his mind, that the whole situation was eerily familiar, but that thought was cast aside as Daphne awoke, disoriented and blinking in the light from the window.

"What happened?"

"Daphne," Harry intoned, "We need to get you to Hogwarts right now -"

She cut him off. "Please tell me what's going on."

"Sorry, I'll explain later," Harry murmured, taking her by the hands.

At this, Daphne looked even more bemused. Harry pulled her to her feet and promptly disapparated them.


End file.
